


Boss

by SubwayWolf



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Barebacking, Boss/Employee Relationship, Butt Plugs, Coming Untouched, Desk Sex, M/M, Office Blow Jobs, Office Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Stress Relief, Under-Desk Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 08:43:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9171607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf
Summary: Jumin is lucky to have an assistant who does his job quickly and efficiently.





	

**Author's Note:**

> its been like a literal month since i got this request from an anon, but you know.. better late than never right! 
> 
> idk if yall know this about me but my most-used fic tag is "under-desk blowjobs".. not sure what that says about my personality but there it is. also i dont wanna know so don't psychoanalyze me!!!
> 
> <3 you all. first time trying out this pairing, but i love writing in jumin's pov, so here goes nothing!!! enjoy!

Lately, Jumin had been neglecting the members of his friend circle he cared about most.

He had been neglecting V along with them, but V understood, as he always did. He was strong enough to not require undivided attention, which is why Jumin had become friends with him in the first place. Luciel knew how to get through dry spells; he’d outlasted plenty before. Zen was visibly sad about it, but as long as he stayed professional, no boundaries were being crossed. MC showed no hint of emotion; he had not been a part of the inner circle long enough to grow attached, or possibly he was attached to someone else entirely.

But the team’s acceptance of Jumin’ personal distance didn’t make it right. Jumin did miss their company, and their continued devotion and attention, in the chatroom and out, warmed his heart. He would have to try and remind himself to commend them more often for their loyalty, though they would likely laugh at him for saying such a thing. If only he had more hours in the day, Jumin could please and praise all of them in the best way he knew how.

The lack of attention was hard on the team, but it was hard on Jumin, too. He didn’t think his frustration was noticeable. Then again, it was always difficult to hide things from Yoosung.

Truly, it was Jumin’s own fault for asking for Yoosung to come in, in the middle of a meeting with the Chairman. Private meetings between Jumin and his father were usually closed-door, not even assistants were allowed in. But this particular conversation was testing the limits of Jumin’s patience, so he called for Yoosung to come in; honestly, it was just as a device to get the Chairman to take the hint and leave. It ended up working, but a tinge of awkwardness was left in the air.

Yoosung was the first to speak after the door shut and they were left alone. He had a small smile on his face, but he appeared mildly concerned. “You used me to interrupt a meeting with daddy?”

Jumin folded his arms. “Don’t use that word… for anyone but me.”

Yoosung flushed, but composed himself and nodded dutifully. If Jumin was in a more desirous mood, he might have called him a good boy.

Since beginning his internship at C&R, Yoosung had grown a great deal more mature and handsome. He was a dutiful employee and learned how to multitask and manage stress. Not to mention, he filled out a suit rather nicely, and styled his hair in a professional manner. He truly was beginning to look like a handsome young man. Jumin often found himself thinking that Rika would be proud.

The concern in Yoosung’s voice became stronger; clear in his voice and expression. He took a few steps forward towards the desk Jumin was sitting at. “It’s been over a week,” he rationalized. “I don’t want this to affect your work ethic. Let me help.”

An entire week without coming? It suddenly felt like longer. At company parties, Jumin recalled hearing the phrase ‘backed up from balls to brains’, usually from men who had drank too much champagne. It was a phrase Jumin never really knew the meaning of until recently, when frustration and stress were unyielding and could never be interrupted for enough time to unwind. It might have been his overstrained mind playing tricks on him, but his balls did feel marginally stiffer.

“Representatives from the Green Energy committee will be here any second,” Jumin insisted, but his concerns were insincere, and Yoosung knew it. Jumin didn’t have the heart to pretend to deny him. “Though, I suppose…”

Yoosung was under the Cabinet Room table before Jumin could verbalize an agreement. The table shadowed him in darkness, but the shimmering gaze of his lavender eyes was clear as day. “Let me… sir.” His hand draped over Jumin’ crotch, where pressure built up. He unzipped the bulging front, allowing some room for growth.

Contrary to popular belief, Jumin had plenty of experience breaking rules, so naturally it didn’t take much convincing to persuade him to break this one. “You’d better not make any noise. If they catch wind you’re under there…”

“They won’t.” He was right. He was quiet, efficient – a promising asset. He knew what he was doing.

Jumin was practically bursting out of his trousers by the time they were slid off his legs. Yoosung didn’t allow him to suffer for long.

That was a few minutes ago. Now, standing before him, were four naughty members of the Green Energy economic branch who, in Jumin’ opinion, needed to be canned, but according to Yoosung, their services were useful to C&R. If they couldn’t be kicked to the curb, they at least deserved an earful.

Conversely, Jumin wasn’t hearing a word of their apologies. He had no desire to pay attention and at the moment lacked the ability. His cock was being sucked, his balls teased, and Yoosung was doing a damn good job, as he always did. Jumin didn’t want to give his attention to these useless idiots, he wanted to give it to the dutiful man between his legs.

Ever proficient and loyal, Yoosung was dead set on getting Jumin to come – not yet, of course, not in front of these incompetent fools. He was doing a great job of helping Jumin feel good, relaxing him by taking the tip in his mouth, circling the head with his tongue, running over the slit and tip as pre-come leaked out, of which he did not waste a single drop.

It was remarkable how easy things like this could still get Jumin off. The number of times Yoosung, Zen, or Luciel had been under a desk or table like this one in the several years they’d known each other had to be staggering. Jumin had lost count long ago. Yet it still hadn’t lost its magic.

As he half-listened to the committee members’ apologies, Jumin did his best to remain straight-faced and relaxed. He had forgotten to unbutton his dress coat upon sitting down. He quickly did so now, in hopes it might give him more breathing room, to lessen the pressure and lower his body temperature, but he received no relief.

Luckily, despite the noticeable flush in Jumin’ cheeks, the committee members did nothing to hint they had any idea what was going on. This was no game, but a poker face was essential to win.

Jumin quickly grew tired of seeing their faces and hearing their voices; he wanted to be alone with his assistant now, to finish their personal meeting on a good note. It was past time to dismiss them.

Interrupting them was not just necessary, it was satisfying. “If my assistant informs me that you are arranging side deals again, your services will no longer be required.” Jumin didn’t need to use a threatening voice on them. Not yet. “And I will be taking Assistant Kim’s word on that, whether it’s the truth or not. So I advise you to stay on his good side. And mine.”

They nodded helplessly, dead quiet. All those poor souls had to do was take a few steps back and bend over, and they’d see what was under the table. But they didn’t.

Jumin focused on them, puzzled. How could some of the city’s greatest minds in economics and fiscal policy be so ignorant and senseless? “You’re dismissed.”

They were out of the room faster than Jumin could blink. He was glad he wasn’t left alone. His lap was wet, saliva running cold down the base of his shaft, his balls aching for release, the tip of his cock teased numb, and he knew in a flash that he didn’t want to come like this.

He had Yoosung bent over the top of the table in a second, ready to sacrifice the important documents sprawled across the surface in favor of spilling some seed. He had his pants down and was ready to finger into him, too, until his fingers hit the base of a familiar black plug.

Jumin’s daze was broken by surprise. Yoosung still wore this old thing? After all these months spent on the job? How often? He wondered if Zen still wore his, too. Just the thought of it made his heart sink.

It had been sort of an initiation rite, a way of testing whether he could follow orders properly. The plug belonged to a set of three training plugs. The first was comically small but it caused Yoosung discomfort throughout the day as he walked around as a busy assistant and did his job. There was a certain appeal about it being hidden under his clothes, like a secret only he and Jumin knew. As time passed, he’d gotten used to it and moved to the next size up. It had been at least a month since he’d graduated to the final size. It used to be part of the routine: Yoosung bringing in morning coffee and then bending over Jumin’s desk, pulling his pants down and receiving the plug. But Jumin hadn’t put it in him in so long; Yoosung must have been putting it in every morning on his own.

It was no use winding his brain up with more confusion. Jumin slid the plug out and pushed himself inside to replace it. Yoosung tensed up noticeably, but leveled out his breathing and took it nice and easy. Jumin could only imagine the pain of being entered with no aid but that of lube applied hours ago. But Yoosung didn’t mind the pain; he never had.

Without truly meaning to, Jumin proceeded to be rough, pounding forward with as much masculine energy as he could before his stamina could run out. His strong hands clenched into lean muscle, their hips were drawing discordant friction off each other. Yoosung kept one leg up on the table so entrance was easier to stomach, but clenched himself tight so Jumin could enjoy firm ridges and wet heat while deep inside.

In a wave of uncharacteristic selflessness, Jumin felt the desire to tend to his partner’s needs. He reached around and took Yoosung’s rock hard dick in his hand and began to jerk him off, in an effort to give him some pleasure too.

Yoosung grabbed him by the wrist, firmly. “You don’t have to.” His faltering voice was hardly above a weak whisper. The grip tightened, and he pulled Jumin’ hand away.

Jumin was taken aback. He repositioned to Yoosung’s hips now, to stabilize himself and have something to hold onto. “Yoosung, I don’t understand.”

“This is for you, boss,” Yoosung clarified, fingernails digging into the dark wood of the table. “Not me.”

What? That did not clarify anything, at all. If this was how Yoosung perceived their sexual encounters, something was wrong. Had working at C&R changed him so much? How often had Yoosung acted or made a choice for Jumin’ sake instead of his own? Jumin feared the answer. He usually tried not to think about it; he now hoped that his appreciation for this fact didn’t go overlooked.

It turned out that Yoosung didn’t need to be touched to finish. The big cock sliding up against his prostate was enough to do it. He clenched around it, seizing up with pleasure, and that thrust Jumin himself over the edge. 

Jumin came hard. The force of it seemed to rack his whole body, his orgasm forcing itself out, his nerves surging alive like lightning, washing his body with a clean high of pleasure which wiped all of his strains and stresses away and left him feeling wholly himself again.

But not ten seconds afterwards, his mind was already drifting back to work, reabsorbing all the stress it had just released. This was how it had to be, how it should be. If this didn’t happen, Jumin would have been worried about himself. Work was important and should always be on the mind. But temporary relief should not go unappreciated.

“Much better,” Jumin sighed, giving Yoosung a firm pat on the ass to show appreciation. If he needed to, Jumin could have thought of a million ways to say thank you. But he didn’t need to.

Yoosung pulled his slacks up and buckled them, making sure to tighten up so he could make it to the bathroom and clean himself out without making a mess of his pants. He turned around and looked Jumin in the eyes, gave him a once-over, then smirked. “You look a lot better than before.”

“What?” Jumin asked, lowering his brow. “Did I look bad before? How bad was I looking?” 

Amused, Yoosung didn’t entertain the topic any longer and went towards the door, giggling to himself. Maybe he hadn’t changed as much as Jumin thought.

Jumin wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “Assistant Kim, I’m serious. You need to tell me these things. What did I look like before?”

Yoosung walked away grinning like he had some secret joke with himself. Once he got over it, Jumin was smiling, too – and it had been more than just one week since he’d smiled last.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm currently taking yuri on ice requests, so shoot me an idea if you love that show and want some nasty fic!


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